


Much Like Suffocating

by illyrilex



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Blue Mary does not fuck around, Boys who rape should all be destroyed, Gen, If this were Star Wars Mai would totally be Force-Sensitive, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrilex/pseuds/illyrilex
Summary: It had been years since King worked as Mr. Big's bouncer and betrayed him, but she had never truly faced any consequences for her actions. COMPLETE





	1. The Damned

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I know, I know - what's a Resident Evil writer doing over here in the King of Fighters fandom? I don't have a good answer to that. Anyway, whatever. A couple of quick notes before we get started:
> 
> Content warning: violence (duh, it's KOF, but still) and a spot of rape. Sorry about that. Please turn back now if you're not comfortable with that stuff. Not that anyone ever truly is, but you know what I mean.
> 
> Wardrobe choices: Please imagine the ladies wearing something other than their fighting clothes. Seriously. Also, do not come at me with any rubbish like, "King would never wear a skirt!" She has canonically worn skirts and/or dresses on more than one occasion, bruh.
> 
> Peep the end of the chapter for more notes. Onward!

The woman known only as King gasped as somebody grabbed her from behind and firmly pressed a gun against her jawline.

"Try anything else and I blow your head off. Get in," came a stern order.

Despite the warning, King momentarily entertained the thought of screaming, or even trying to break free, but there was no doubt in her mind that pulling any risky stunts would get her seriously injured, if not outright killed. She took a deep breath and grudgingly allowed the man behind her to walk her to a white sports utility vehicle, where she was forcibly shoved into the backseat. The stranger climbed in next to her, never once lowering his gun as he shut the door.

"Hey, man -- you okay?" He called out to his partner, who was wailing loudly from the driver's seat as a heavy stream of blood poured from both of his nostrils.  
"That bitch! That bitch broke my nose!" The driver turned to look into the backseat; his bloodied face was bruising rapidly. "You're dead, you hear me?! You're DEAD!"

There was something about the look in his eyes that instantly filled King with an almost overwhelming sense of unease. She involuntarily shrunk back against the seat as she hurriedly looked away from him. She turned toward the window next to her which was, predictably, tinted as dark as the law would allow, hoping that somebody outside saw what happened and called the cops. After all, it wasn't exactly common for a nearly six-foot tall, kickboxing bartender to be attacked by a couple of random jerks in the middle of broad daylight.

King backed herself into the corner as the driver aggressively pulled out of the small outdoor lot. Being kidnapped and held at gunpoint was an all-new experience for her that was quickly messing with her head. On one hand, she was absolutely terrified: one wrong move and she could get _shot_. On the other, she was beyond angry about being rendered helpless by guys she could easily take in a fair fight.

"What do you want?!" King wasn't sure if talking was a good idea; the question just sort of came out.  
"What do I want?!" The driver bellowed from the front seat. "What _I_ want is to bash your head in, you fucking whore!"

King pressed her lips together in a thin line; anger was starting to overshadow absolute terror. Who even was this asshole? She wanted to kick him in the face again, but she knew she had to focus on escaping instead of daydreaming about doing more violence. Her cell phone was in her purse; if she could find a way to dial 911 without them noticing her, then, maybe --

"Come here," the gunman spoke up.  
"What?" The unexpected request caught King off guard.  
"Move over here, and give me your bag," the gunman said slowly.

King didn't have much of a choice: Refuse and probably get shot in the face without ever knowing why she was in this situation to begin with, or comply and maybe live for at least a little while longer. She slowly moved to the middle seat before pulling her purse off: She reluctantly handed it to the gunman, who took the bag and placed it near his feet.

"There are people waiting for me," King stated as she nervously glanced at the pistol that was still pointed at her. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she smoothed her skirt, which had torn a little during her short brawl with the driver. "If I don't show up they'll --"  
"They'll what? Nobody knows where you are."

That was an excellent point. Yuri and Mai were probably already at the restaurant stuffing their faces with nachos, blissfully unaware that their friend was in peril. It was depressing, really.

"You fucking..." the driver growled from his place up front. "I should pull this car over right now and show you what happens to --"  
"Then do it!" King's temper flared. Although she knew she needed to keep a level head, she couldn't help herself. She was pissed, and the very thought of getting a rematch and inflicting more pain on this guy was intensely desirable. "Fight me without your bro and see what else I can do to your face!"

"Shut up!"

Before King could react the gunman struck her with the barrel of his gun: She let out a low groan as she fell sideways on the leather seat. Blood started to flow from her forehead as she sunk into a sleepy haze. Her captors were talking, but she couldn't process anything they were saying. King desperately wanted to stay awake, to listen to what these men were discussing, but it wasn't looking too good. She could sense the gunman peering down at her; he must have been checking to see if she was still conscious.

"You think Big'll be mad?"  
"At what? He _said_ to rough her up a bit!"

King's eyes flew open. Big?! What about Big?! Years had passed since she worked as the bouncer at the infamous crime lord's restaurant-slash-club-slash-breeding-ground-for-illegal-activity and betrayed him: What did he have to do with anything? Was this some kind of punishment for her actions all that time ago? If so, a better question was why now?

King tried to will herself to get up, but she was in too much pain, and she was too sleepy anyway. Her eyes closed once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That does it for this bit. So, just a couple of really little things:
> 
> *The decision to not capitalize the driver and the gunman is intentional. Take from that what you will.
> 
> *It's totally summer, so "broad daylight" is about 5:00 - 5:30 PM. Somewhere in there.
> 
> *According to the SNK wiki, Southtown is in Florida, but that's rubbish b/c A) it's never stated anywhere, and B) KOF: Kyo, although only partially canon, states that Southtown is in California (there's even a map). There are good reasons to think it might be based on Florida, but those same reasons apply to the San Diego area, too. With that being said, if you've been to SD then I hope you found some humour in the bit about the SUV being white.
> 
> Okay, I think that wraps it up. Don't be afraid to let me know your thoughts and feelings. Cheers!


	2. Vitamin R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, anyone actually reading: this gets pretty rough. A quick note on the word "merde" and its pronunciation: it's French for "shit" and because it's drawn out, the correct way to say/read it is mair-duh. But, like... longer.
> 
> Obviously, King's name is not canon, and if SNK ever reveals it I'll come back and retcon the shit out of this.
> 
> Those KOF XIII screams tho. Jeezus christ.
> 
> As always, a few more notes at the end. Don't hate me too much.

King slipped in and out of consciousness for the rest of the drive. Her of sense of time -- her sense of anything, really -- was completely destroyed. She wasn't even sure if she was really awake. It took a moment, but the pain coming from her head convinced her that she was, indeed, awake. She instinctively touched where the gun had hit; her fingers came away wet and sticky. She absently wiped them on her shirt, too befuddled to care that she had just ruined one of her favourite articles of clothing.

King slowly blinked and looked around: She was carelessly slumped in an armchair in a small motel room that hadn't seen a good update since the late 1980's at best. Everything was old: the desk, the bed, the curtains. The television probably only got six channels. She didn't catch why, but they were only staying there for a short while. Was it something about not wanting to draw police attention? Or was it something about awaiting further instructions? Both? Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. She needed to get out - and fast. She started to pull herself up when somebody spoke.

"Are you back with us? Cécile?"

The voice sent chills down King's spine: A complete stranger had just called her by her actual name, which was something only a very select few people knew. She turned to see the driver sitting on the edge of the bed. How had she not noticed him? He appeared much calmer than he was earlier: he had cleaned the blood off of his face, which was twisted in a threatening smile. He was twirling her driver's license between his fingers.

"Cécile. Marie. Levasseur. How… French." There was a hint of disdain in his tone. "Do you speak it?"  
"What are you going to do with me?" King asked hesitantly.

"You didn't answer my question. But that's okay! Anyway, my associate and I… we just wanted to chat with you. You see, Mr. Big wanted us to find out how you've been lately. But, then, you made things _difficult_." The driver took cash out of King's wallet and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "Now, well… now, we have to do something about that."

King decided she hated this man. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke. There was something about him that made her feel really uncomfortable, and she loathed it. She silently watched as he set her wallet down to rummage through her purse: Keys, tampons, a handkerchief, and condoms were all carelessly tossed aside until he found her cell phone.

"Ah-ha!" The driver's mouth widened into a grin. "This is a nice case," he exclaimed with feigned enthusiasm. There was a pause as he briefly studied the small screen. He swiped once before holding the phone up at King: She flinched at the sound of the camera's shutter going off.

"Oh, you're one of those photogenic types, huh?" The driver held the image up for King to see: There she was, slumped in the chair, with blood caked on her forehead, making a somewhat baffled I-hate-you-please-die face. It was one of the creepiest photos she had ever seen in her life.

"Well, I think we're done with this," the driver chuckled as he threw the phone to the side. It bounced once and fell off of the bed, landing on the floor beside it. "So! Maybe we should talk about what you did. What do you think, _Cécile_?" He said her name with an over-exaggerated faux French accent.

King tensed up as the driver stood. She gripped the chair's arms, uncertain of why she was experiencing such a visceral reaction to the idea of this person coming near her. She had faced more unsavory opponents in the past: what was it about this clown that was making her feel such dread? This was her chance, though: With Guns McGee out of the picture -- wherever he was -- she could defend herself properly. However, the space was pretty tight; Trap Shots, Tornado Kicks, or any other flashy, one-hit knockout techniques were absolutely out of the question.

The second the driver was in front of King she delivered a hard kick to his kneecap; his leg buckled and he fell to the floor. She awkwardly rose from her seat and kneed him in his face as hard as she could, making sure to target his injured nose. She considered hitting him a third time but quickly decided against it. Instead, she hopped past him and immediately ran to the door: She threw it open, only to see the gunman standing right in her path.

Before King could say or do anything else, the driver grabbed a handful of her short hair from behind. She managed to scream for help as she was pulled back inside.

"BITCH!" The driver yelled as he flung King into a small desk. She hit the corner and gasped in pain and disbelief. This guy should have been down for the count. He must have been hopped up on something.

"Where do you think you're going?!" The gunman exclaimed as he came inside. He pressed his firearm against the back of King's head. "I told you earlier that if you tried anything else --"

King's breath caught in her throat as she steadied herself on the desk. Although she was certain Big didn't give any orders to kill her (outright murder just wasn't his style) there was still something undeniably scary about being at the mercy of this flunky. All he had to do was slip, and the walls would be covered in her brain matter. Or, if he was the sadistic type, he could go for the gut and watch as she slowly bled out à la _Reservoir Dogs_.

"Put that away -- I've got this!"

The gunman backed off as the driver once again took King by her hair. "Don't worry," he said as he jerked her upright. "Big wants you alive."

With that the driver slammed King's head into the wall: her vision swam and she was sure she had just seen actual stars floating in front of her face. She instinctively reached up and dug her nails into the driver's hand as hard as she could to try to get him to let go, but he slammed her head into the wall again. The cut on her forehead started leaking fresh blood that ran down the side of her face in thin rivulets.

"He said he wanted you to squirm -- just a little -- but after what you've done here!? He won't mind if I take certain liberties with you!"

King cried out as she was violently thrown down. She landed on top of a small coffee table that immediately collapsed under her weight; cheap plywood nicked her legs and forearms as she scrambled to get up. The driver quickly stopped her in her tracks by delivering several hard kicks to her midsection. Tears streamed down King's face as she crumpled to the floor: The pain in her head had multiplied exponentially, and she was pretty sure her ribs were broken. She rolled onto her back and managed to block what would have been a nasty blow to her face. She turned her head to the side and noticed her phone. If she could just grab it…

The driver stopped attacking to yell something at his cohort, but King wasn't paying attention to them - she was completely focused on getting the phone. She edged off to the side and stretched her arm out; the small gadget was barely out of her reach. Just a little more, and --

"She's got her phone!"

Fuck!

King opened her recent calls and blindly jammed her thumb on the nearest name. She didn't give a damn who it was -- she just hoped there was enough time for the call to connect. The driver was on her in an instant: he pulled her to her feet and slammed her against the wall. He used his forearm to hold her in place as he wrenched the phone from her hand.

"This little stunt?! This just cost you big time!" The driver threw the device on the floor and stomped on it several times, completely shattering the screen. King watched helplessly as the display flickered and dimmed out.

"What do you think we should do with you now?! _Cécile_?" The driver said King's name with such venom that it was jarring. He paused for an answer, but King had no idea of what to say. Hell, what even was talking? She felt so disconnected from everything that the act of speaking seemed almost impossible.

" _Cécile_? What should we do with you?!"

King furrowed her brow and took note of a lamp that was next to her. It, much like everything else in the room, was hideous, but it also seemed really heavy. It would probably make a pretty decent weapon. If only she could reach it. Maybe if she moved a little to the right…?

"Hey!" The driver loosened his hold on King and slapped her across the face.  
"Sorry," she muttered as blood flowed from her lower lip."I was just… that lamp."  
"The lamp?!"

King pounced on the opportunity to use the driver's confusion to her advantage. She kneed him in the crotch before shoving him away as hard as she could. She reached for the lamp, but stopped when the gunman, who had presumably been instructed to hang back, made to grab her. She hit him with a swift knee to his liver, followed by an uppercut to his jaw that sent him crashing into the dresser. She drew in a sharp breath as she opened and closed her fist: throwing punches that hard without gloves on hurt.

"You shouldn't have done that!"

The driver was enraged: He lunged at King and threw a straight jab that hit her square in the face. She fell backwards and landed on the side of the bed, which felt like it was made out of concrete.

"See --" the driver shouted as he removed his jacket -- "now I'm going to have to hurt you REAL bad!"  
"Because this isn't bad enough?" King asked groggily as she worked to prop herself up. She winced as she raised a hand to her bloodied nose.

"A comedian, huh?!" The driver pulled King up by her collar: He punched her again before throwing her back down.  
"Merde…!"

King dragged the word out as everything wobbled off to the left. She knew she needed to move, to fight back, but the simple act of trying to sit up was astoundingly difficult: Every time she tried the room veered off at weird angles.  
  
"Oh, so you _do_ speak it!"  
"That's me," King retorted as she fell back. "Your friendly… neighborhood... francophone."  
"Interesting. Go outside," The driver commanded the gunman, who was still reeling from being assaulted. " _Cécile_ and I are going to have a talk!"

The gunman raised his hands; he looked like he didn't want any part of what his partner had in mind. "Pfft, you can have her. Just don't get carried away," he said as he stumbled out of the room.

The second the door closed, the driver advanced on King, who had just barely pulled herself into a sitting position. He immediately knocked her back and climbed on top of her. She let out a startled cry as he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed.

"How bad do you want me to hurt you?! HUH?"

The driver tightened his hold on King; she clawed at his hands as she gasped for air. The world was upside down: There was a strange filter over everything and King could feel herself slipping. The driver was yelling something but she couldn't make any sense of his words. This was it -- despite Big's orders to keep her alive she was going to be choked out in this horrible place, and no one would know about it. She would be another Jane Doe for the homicide department to mull over for a week or two until someone declared it a cold case. It would probably be like a bad episode of _Law & Order_.

"Don't go to sleep yet!"

The driver slightly relaxed his grip, but kept his hands in place. King swallowed hard and took in as much air as she could. "Fuck… off!" She gasped between breaths.

"'Fuck off'? My, you're so full of anger, _Cécile_!" The driver smiled down at King, a sinister expression that left her feeling so alarmed she could barely stand it. "I bet it's tearing you up right now, not being able to use your fancy kicks to put me away. I can see it in your face."

"Con… gratulations!" King choked as she tried to pry the driver's hands off of her.  
"You know, I'm not going to lie to you, _Cécile_ ," the driver said conversationally. He leaned in close -- too close -- to speak into her ear. "Taking you down a peg has been a _major_ turn on."

"Whu-?!" King was hit by a wave of terror as the driver tightened his hold on her neck with one hand and reached up her skirt with the other.  
"I've seen you fight, _Cécile_ \-- during your little tournaments, and at your little bar. You get off on the violence, don't you?! On being in control?! You enjoy hurting people because you think you're hot shit -- but you're not!" The driver grabbed a hold of King's underwear and savagely tore it off.

King was stunned; she froze, suddenly unable to move or speak. She couldn't breathe, not because of the pressure on her injured ribs or the hand clutching her throat, but because of a crushing weight in her chest that made her feel like she was going to implode. She screamed, a high-pitched, pitiful sound that was stifled as the driver squeezed her neck even harder. She tugged at his hand but it was no use -- she was getting weaker by the second, and whatever the hell he was on seemed to have granted him super strength. She struggled under his weight as he fumbled with her leg.

"Get… away from me!" King croaked desperately as tears stung her eyes. She heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle, followed by a zipper, and entered a full-blown panic: She could practically feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest as she broke into a cold sweat. She placed trembling hands against the driver and frantically tried to push him away, but she didn't have the leverage to move him. She kicked and clawed and did everything in her power to get this person away from her, but nothing was working and it was as frustrating as it was frightening. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped she was just having a bad dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes! Again!
> 
> * On King's name: I did a lot of research on popular French girl names starting back in '74, which was the original year of her birth until SNK decided that no one ages ever. Cécile was in the top 25 baby names for that year. Yay. But, even if I move her birthday up about 20 years, so she was born in '94, the name is still in the top 50, if I remember right. I may have researched this a little too much. Also, yeah, I moved her birthday up so she can still be in her 20's during present day. The KOF timeline is getting really screwy with Destiny in the fold now.
> 
> * Reservoir Dogs: old movie by Quentin Tarantino. There's a character that bleeds out from a gunshot wound during the course of the film. Sorry if that's a spoiler. Also, go watch it if you haven't seen it - it's really good.
> 
> * King has an iPhone with Fingerprint ID turned on. The more you know.
> 
> * Have you ever been hit in the liver? That. shit. hurts. Like, when boxers go down from liver shots? LEGIT.
> 
> I think that does it for this installment. As always, please let me know what you're thinking. Cheers!


	3. Paint the Seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anybody still with me, or was the last chapter too much? I promise this one isn't traumatic.
> 
> Onward~!

Mai Shiranui wasn't the worrying type, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something about the evening was  _wrong_. She thoughtfully picked at an almost comically large plate of nachos; surely, she was just being silly. Was increased anxiety a side-effect of her new meds? She would have to check on that later.

"Yeah, Robert doesn't care, but dad isn't happy about -- what's the matter?" Yuri Sakazaki frowned from across the table.

"Kingy's really late," Mai answered. "This isn't like her."  
"It's a little weird, but she'll be here any minute."

Mai watched the entrance to the restaurant as Yuri resumed her harrowing tale of working up the courage to get a nose piercing, and the effect it had on her old-fashioned father's psyche. Mai really wasn't trying to tune her out, but she couldn't help it. Deep down she knew something wasn't right.

"You're not even listening!" Yuri was clearly offended.  
"Huh? Sorry. It's cute, it suits you."  
"Now you're just sucking up."  
"Not at all," Mai began. "It's just --"

She was cut off by Pulp's  _This is Hardcore_  as it blared loudly from Yuri's pocket.

"Oh, look --" Yuri grinned as she retrieved her phone -- "It's King-san now! Helloooo?"

Yuri's face instantly went from cheerful to confused.

"I think it's a butt dial or something."  
"Let me see!"

Mai reached over and took the device from Yuri's hand. She put it up to her ear and listened: All she could hear was a ton of static and a strange buzzing noise. She was about to give the phone back, but stopped; she thought she heard something - a voice? It sounded like it might have been a man yelling. No, it was  _definitely_  a man yelling. He was muffled and distant; she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"What is it?" Yuri asked around a mouthful of a particularly loaded nacho.  
"I don't know? I -- King!" Mai cupped her hand around the bottom of the phone and shouted. She was met with more buzzing.

"Here," Yuri took the device back. "Maybe if I hang up and call her ba --"  
"Don't hang up!"  
"But the connection's bad!"  
"I think I heard someone yelling though!"  
"What?"

Yuri immediately brought the phone back to her ear. She went through her own personal face journey as she listened, going from mildly annoyed to curious to intensely focused. She let out a loud gasp and dropped the expensive gadget on the table.

"I think I heard King scream!?"  
"What?"  
"I think -- I mean, I know I heard a scream!" Yuri spoke so fast she barely enunciated her words. "But maybe it wasn't King-san. Maybe she's on the way here and someone on the street is being super loud or something, or, or…!"

Mai put the phone on speaker: Her and Yuri leaned over it, listening carefully, but there was only noise. Mai was about to say something but stopped when she heard a female voice yell what sounded like complete gibberish.

"Did you hear that?!" Yuri nearly jumped out of her seat.  
"We've gotta go," Mai said quickly. "We've got to do something -- what do we do?!"  
"I don't know! We don't even know where she is!" Yuri exclaimed.  
"Don't you have that friend finder app thing?!" Mai asked anxiously.  
"I never set it up!"

Mai groaned. "Great… So, now what?!"  
"I don't know," Yuri cried, practically on the verge of tears. "Maybe -- maybe we should call the cops?"  
"Cops!" Mai echoed as she pulled her own phone from her pocket. " Yes! Cops! Maybe Mary's on duty! Maybe she can help us!"  
"Mary?!"  
"Yeah," Mai quirked her brow as she hastily scrolled through her contacts. "You know, Blue Mary!? With the good hair and really buff arms?"  
"Yeah, no, I know!" Yuri responded. "But I thought she was a super special… agent person or something?"  
"Nope. She took a job at the police department not too long ago. Jesus, I don't even live here yet and I know more about the local law enforcement than you do?!"  
"I'm not as cool as you," came Yuri's answer. It was hard to tell if she was serious.

Mai drummed her fingers on the table as Mary's line rang and rang and rang. She was about to hang up when she was greeted by a somewhat tired, almost babyish voice.

"Ryan."  
"MARY!"  
"W'sup, w'sup? Is Andy giving you trouble again?"  
"Well, yeah, but - NO! Yuri and I need your help!"

Mai told Southtown PD's newest detective, Mary Ryan, about the bizarre phone call.

"That's really weird," Mary said. "You know what? Let me see if I can locate her."  
"Really?! You can do that?!"  
"Well, maybe. Like, I told her to accept my Find Friends request ages ago but I don't remember if she ever did. Let me see..."

Mai could hear Mary shuffling around at her desk. Within seconds a string of curses issued from the line.

"Well," Mary grumbled. "The good news is that she  _did_  accept the request. The bad news is that it's doing some really funky stuff with her location."  
"What do you mean?"  
"It keeps changing. First it showed her near her apartment, but then it jumped to somewhere not too far from the Embarcadero, but now the street keeps changing. It won't even load an address."  
"Arggh! There's gotta be  _something_  we can do to find her!" Mai shouted, frustrated.

Mary sighed.

"Shit! She's my friend, too, and if she's in some kind of trou -- wait. Hang on. Hang on a second!"

Mai began to protest but it was too late: the line went silent.

"What's going on?!" Yuri asked frantically.  
"I'm on hold!"

"Sorry, but I just overheard something  _very_  interesting." Mary apologized as she came back on the line moments later. "Some kind of disturbance call was reported from a motel off the I-5 just a couple of minutes ago. You guys heard yelling right?"  
"Yeah…?"  
"What are the chances of Yuri getting a call like that at the same time a  _disturbance_  call comes in over here?"  
"You think -?!"  
"This could be the reach of the century, but my Spider-Sense is tingling. This case I'm on has hit a dead end so I'll go and check it out! Call my cell if anything changes!"

Mai opened her mouth to reply but Mary hung up before she could get another word in. She slammed her phone on the table and let out an angry noise that startled everyone in the immediate area.

A wide-eyed Yuri nervously smiled at the dozens of onlookers. "People are staring - and not at your boobs for once," she said through gritted teeth. " What happened?!"

Mai gave Yuri the details of the short conversation. When she finished she covered her face with her hands. This wasn't fair -- this wasn't right! Surely, there had to be something they could do other than play the waiting game.

"HANG ON!"  
"Gah -- WHAT?!" Yuri jumped; she almost knocked her drink over.  
"Yuri! The 5!"  
"What about it?!"  
"Mary's going to a motel off of the 5! Maybe  _we_  can check it out, too!"  
"You want to interfere with official police business?!"  
"Who said anything about interfering?"  
"Sure, Jan. Let's say we correctly guess if it's on the 5 North, or the 5 South. Then what?!"  
"Then we look around a bit! Maybe find Mary and help her out! Anything! Come on, Yuri!"

Yuri pursed her lips as she fidgeted with her nose stud. She seemed like she was in the middle of some internal battle.

"Yuri," Mai stood up and crossed the table. "Yuri, don't shut down on me! We can help -- I know we can!"  
"But -- but, Mary --!"  
"I know Mary's on it, but listen to that call again! Kingy is trying to reach us, and if we don't at least  _try_  to find her, then what sort of garbage friends does that make us?!" Mai took Yuri's hands and pulled her out of her seat.  
"You're right," Yuri nodded her head. "Let's go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there's a lot of stuff to unpack here:
> 
> * King was totally right to assume that her friends would order nachos.  
> * Head-canon: Mai takes medication for bipolar disorder. There's nothing in the rules that says she can't be a badass ninja and fighter while dealing with mental illness. She's also in the process of moving from Japan to Southtown.  
> * Head-canon: Yuri has a cute little nose stud.  
> * This is Hardcore, by the band Pulp, is an awesome song, and the 30-second bit that starts at 3:41 (3:44 if you watch the music video) would make an excellent ring tone for somebody. (Also, this song is so, so very dirty.)  
> * On the broken phone: I've actually been on the line with someone as they broke their phone - there was a lot of noise, but I could still hear them (they couldn't hear me, though). Just in case you thought I was pulling the behavioural properties of a broken phone out of my ass...  
> * Head-canon: Mary took a job as a detective at the police department for stable hours, paid vacation, and a benefits package.  
> * Find Friends, for those who do not have iPhones, or have never used it, is a fickle thing. I did a lot of hands-on research with this and literally watched someone's location change, like, six times even though their phone (which didn't always work right) was literally right next to me.  
> * The I-5 is the main interstate highway on the west coast of the US. It runs from Canada to Mexico, and goes through a ton of major cities, including LA and San Diego. Now, since I've used some research and head-canon-y goodness to base Southtown around San Diego, using this highway makes sense in my little world.  
> * "Sure, Jan." No, I'm not referencing King's brother (whose name should have been translated as "Jean" btw, don't get me started); this is in reference to the meme. You know the one, right? Google it if need be.
> 
> As always, my metaphorical door is always open, so don't be afraid to drop me a line. See you on the radio.


	4. Interlewd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this isn't really a "chapter," but I wanted to keep it because reasons. It will probably make you uncomfortable.

King was light-headed and nauseous. The weight on her ribs was terribly painful and she had thrown up in her mouth twice. She didn't know why, but she found herself thinking about her friend (could she really call him that, or was he more of an acquaintance?) Kyo. He was going to be in town in a few days, and the two had agreed to get lunch once he got settled. She wondered if he would be okay with her cancelling their plans. She would make something up -- something realistic: She caught a cold, or the cat was sick, or… something. She would figure it out later.

If there even was a later, anyway. She felt like she was already dead and buried.


	5. The Clincher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This chapter was originally way longer, but I thought that splitting it would probably be a better move. Plus, I decided that I hated the second half of it, so there's that. Anyway, I hope this isn't too weak. Onward~

It was by sheer, dumb luck that Yuri and Mai came across a small motel along the I-5 North that wasn't too far from the Embarcadero. Yuri pulled in to one of many empty parking spots, uncertainty all over her face.

"Do you think this is it?" She asked as she shut off the engine.  
"It has to be!" Mai answered as she hastily unbuckled her seat belt. She wrinkled her nose as she climbed out of the car. It felt as if she had entered another dimension: The building looked old - almost as if it had been lifted straight out of a vintage photograph. There was a huge sign that probably emitted a sickening neon glow when it was on, and the paint on the gated pool area was chipping off everywhere. Except for a few stragglers, the place seemed almost completely deserted. An unmarked police cruiser sat parked outside the tiny office.

"Welp," Yuri exited the vehicle with a grimace. "That must be Mary. Do you think she'll be mad if she sees us?"  
"I really don't care," Mai exclaimed as she rushed toward the stairwell. She couldn't explain why, but something was telling her to get to the upper level. "We need to find Kingy as soon as possible!"  
"But we don't even know if she's here! A 'disturbance' could be anyone! Anywhere!" Yuri called as she ran after her.

Mai took the stairs two at a time. When she reached the second floor she pressed herself against the wall and peeked around the corner: On one end of the walkway was a maid with a small cart stacked high with towels and various cleaning supplies; on the other end was a man leaning heavily on the metal railing smoking pot. Mai noticed a huge mouse on his jaw; it was clear that he had been hit by something - or someone - hard. He must have been at least part of the reason why the cops were called.

Yuri let out a low whistle. "He looks… bad."  
"Bad as in 'terrible' or bad as in 'he looks like a bad guy'?"  
"Both."

Mai watched the man carefully. There was something about him -- other than his damaged face -- that didn't sit right with her. "We have to go talk to him," she declared.  
"O-okay, but we we can't just walk up all, 'Hey, man, have you seen a super tall, kinda weird blonde woman with a pointy nose and tendency toward sadism?'"  
"Kingy does  _not_  have a tendency toward -- okay, maybe a little, but that's not the point!"  
"Right. So, what do we do?"  
"Hmmm…." Mai tapped her finger against her chin as she thought. It only took a few seconds before she was struck with an excellent idea.  
"Drunk Girl Jutsu!"  
"Huh?!"

Mai grabbed Yuri's arm and slung it around her shoulder. Yuri made a face but then instantly caught on. The two hobbled out of the stairwell, making sure to look as unsteady on their feet as possible. Yuri shot Mai a concerned glance as they moved forward.

"Kore de umaku ikan --"  
"Urusaiiiii," Mai chided her in a happy, sing-song tone. She let out an obnoxious laugh as the two continued down the hall. She felt Yuri tensing up and elbowed her.  
"Yamete!"  
"Gomen…!"

After what felt like an eternity, the two finally reached the stranger. Mai giggled as they stopped in front of him. He looked the two women up and down; the corners of his mouth slowly turned upward.

"Hey, sailor," Mai did her best to slur her speech. "Got any more of that?"  
"Sorry, baby girl, but I'm all out." A pause. "What're you --"  
"WHOA!" Yuri interrupted as she clumsily untangled herself from Mai. She stumbled for added effect as she pointed a wobbly finger directly at the mouse on the stranger's jaw. "Duuuuude! What happened to your FACE?!"  
"Uh… it's nothing. Nothing."

The stranger's answer, and his overall vibe, made Mai absolutely  _certain_  that he had information they needed. But how would they get it out of him? Her default move of leaning forward and shamelessly smashing her breasts together to make the stranger bow to her every whim was out, as she had decided against wearing a low-cut top in favour of something a little more modest. She cursed the decision before switching gears. She needed to think of stealthy interrogation techniques, and quickly, otherwise -

"Hi, guys!"

Mai's train of thought was instantly derailed as Mary Ryan casually strolled toward the group, a huge, fake smile plastered on her face. There was something about her demeanor that made Mai extremely nervous.

"Uhh, heyyyyy," Yuri greeted the detective with a timid grin.  
"Southtown PD." Mary didn't even acknowledge the two women as she gestured toward the badge that was affixed to her belt. "Can I ask you some questions?"

The stranger didn't say a word as he hastily extinguished his joint. Mary raised her eyebrows and pointed at a nearby door.

"This your room?"  
"Yeah…?"  
"There have been some complaints about noise. Yelling, stuff breaking -- that kind of thing. You want to tell me about that?"

The stranger didn't reply. Mary abruptly changed the subject. "What happened to your face?"  
"Look, man, I wasn't doing anything. We were just talking and --"  
"Mmm-hm," Mary cut him off. " You want to open up that door, playboy?"

All at once the stranger turned on his heel and sprinted down the walkway. Mai deftly pulled a folding fan out of the back of her shorts and threw it at his head as hard as she could. The weapon hit, causing him to stumble. Mary immediately dashed forward with almost superhuman speed to deliver a sliding kick that took out the stranger's legs; he went crashing to the floor face-first. To add insult to injury she blasted him with a stun gun she had seemingly produced out of nowhere. She pressed her knee into the small of his back to make sure he stayed down.

"What the  _hell_  are you doing?!"  
Mai wasn't sure who Mary was addressing, but she spoke up anyway. "Helping you out!"

Mary pulled out a pair of handcuffs and shackled the stranger's hands behind his back. She scowled at Mai.

"Thanks, but you really shouldn't be here!"  
"We couldn't just sit by and not do anything," Mai stated as she picked up her fan.  
"How did you even know to come  _here_?!"  
"Luck," Yuri chimed in sheepishly.  
"Look, we  _had_  to come," Mai began. "You said --"  
"I  _know_  what I said --" Mary interrupted as she deftly searched her prisoner --"but that wasn't an invitation for you to come here and take things into your own hands! And you!"

Mary turned her attention back to the stranger on the ground. "You and I? We're going to have a little talk, buddy."  
"What the hell is going on?! I didn't even do anything!"  
"You ran, idiot!" Mary retorted. She rolled her eyes as she yanked the stranger to his feet. "Listen, I have to take this fool to the car. Don't do  _anything_  until I get back."  
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Yuri exclaimed with a salute.

Mai took a deep breath. She really didn't want to make any promises she couldn't keep...  
"MAI!"  
"Okay, okay. Fine."  
"Good!" Mary nodded her approval before ushering the stranger along the walkway and into the stairwell.

Patience wasn't exactly one of Mai Shiranui's stronger attributes. She rapidly tapped her fan against her leg, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she did so. She could hear voices echoing from the parking lot below. She strained her ears, trying to listen, but she was only able to pick up a single word here and there. It must have been quite the conversation because, from the sound of things, Mary was getting pretty heated.

"I don't like this," Yuri commented as she took out her phone. Somehow, it hadn't dropped the call from King.  
"Anything new?"  
"Just noise."

Several excruciating minutes passed, and Mai felt like she was going to burst. Whatever Mary was doing downstairs was taking too long. Mai made up her mind: She was going to march up to that door to find out what the stranger was hiding, even if it meant going back on her word. She started toward the room when Mary finally reappeared.

"My new friend and I had a really nice chat," she said brightly. She drew her gun and checked the clip as she casually strolled by the pair.  
"What'd he say?!"  
"They're a couple of Big's goons. They nabbed King earlier and brought her here."  
"Mr. Big?!" Yuri's eyes went wide. She was all too familiar with Big's apparent fondness for kidnapping.

"Wait," Mai furrowed her brow. "'They're?'"  
"Tweedledum has an accomplice inside," Mary answered. She cleared her throat and pounded on the door. "Southtown PD! Open up!"

The trio waited, but there was only silence.

"So, that's how you want to play it…?" Mary knocked and called out again. No answer.

Nothing was happening, and it was making Mai incredibly anxious. They now knew for sure that King was inside, and there was a very good chance that she was hurt, so why knock? Why go through the motions? Legalities? Did that stuff really matter at this point?! Mai was about to push Mary aside and break the door down herself, but, without warning, Mary kicked it in, splintering the cruddy wood into dozens of pieces.

"SOUTHTOWN PD! FREEZE!"

Mary trained her pistol in front of her, aiming it every which way as she raced into the room. Unsure of what to expect, Mai readied her fan and rushed after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill:
> 
> * King's sadism: In the Japanese version of Capcom vs. SNK 2, you could trigger special win quotes and conversations between certain teammates, a couple of them being Yuri and King. My Japanese wasn't the greatest, but a lot of the time, Yuri would say things like, "stop it," or "that's enough!" On top of that, Madman's Cafe (did anyone ever read them?) did a news story talking about these convos, and specifically mentioned that King was a sadist.
> 
> * Yuri and Mai's convo: Yuri is starting to say, "If this doesn't work," but is interrupted by Mai's "shut up." Also, "yamete" = stop it! and "gomen" = sorry. All of this is pretty informal speak, but if I need to make corrections, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Alright, I'm done. As always, hit me up with comments or whatever. Don't be shy!


	6. Under the Knife

The sight that greeted Mai was, in a word, upsetting.

A tall man with an obviously broken nose stood near the center of the small room with King, who was barely conscious, in a tight chokehold. She looked not unlike a broken toy as she feebly struggled to break away: Her clothes were disheveled and her face was marred by drying blood and ugly bruises. Mai didn't think she had ever seen her so battered, even after some of her rougher tournament matches. What on earth had these guys done to her?

"Oh my god," Yuri cried. "King-san!?" She started forward, but Mary quickly put an arm out to keep her back.  
"You brought friends?" The man flashed a grin that was laced with pure menace. "Is that even legal, officer?"  
"You don't get to comment on what's legal," Mary replied in a low tone Mai had never heard her use before. "Now let her go."  
"I can't do that, officer. Cécile and I aren't done yet."  
"Yes you are." Mary answered flatly. She squeezed the trigger.

Mai and Yuri both jumped back, startled by the loud noise from the gun. They watched as a bullet severed part of the man's ear before blowing a hole in the back wall. He swore loudly and immediately released his hold on King: she groaned as she hit the carpet with a dull thud.

"King-san!?" Yuri exclaimed as she ran over to her.  
" _Yuri_...?!" King asked groggily. "Qu'e- qu'est qui s'est passé...?"

Meanwhile, the man with the broken nose glared daggers at Mary.

"You crazy bitch!" He shouted as he placed a hand over what was left of his ear.  
"Get. On. The. Ground." Mary ordered. She kept her gun trained on the man as he slowly lowered himself to his knees.

Mai was frozen in place. She surveyed the area, immediately spotting King's broken cell phone, along with what must have been the contents of her purse, a decimated coffee table, and... a discarded bundle of thin fabric that she recognized instantly: she was there when King bought them. Mai was hit by an unforgiving wave of nausea that turned into pure, unbridled fury. She turned to Mary, who had wasted no time restraining the man with a heavy-duty zip tie she surely must have conjured from thin air. For some reason he was laughing.

"You think this is funny?!" Mary pulled the man to his feet.  
"Hilarious. You know I'll be out in no time, right?!"

Mary growled. She looked over at Yuri, who was helping King onto the small bed.  
"How bad?!"  
"Bad!" Yuri responded.

Mai gripped her fan so hard that the edges dug into her skin. She was disgusted, and appalled, and outraged. Against her better judgment, she darted straight up to the prisoner and struck him in the face with her weapon, instantly splitting the skin across the bridge of his nose. Mary would probably lecture her about the legal consequences of attacking detainees later, but she didn't care: This monster had obviously done horrible things to her friend - she wasn't going to let it slide! Mai was ready to strike again, but Mary gave her a warning look that made her want to reevaluate every single choice she had ever made in her life.

"OW -- officer! That's assault -- with a weapon! Aren't you going to do anything about that?!"  
"I didn't see anything," Mary replied coldly as she threw the monster into a nearby desk chair. She furrowed her brow as a wild-eyed beat cop suddenly appeared in the open doorway, his gun at the ready.

"Jesus! What happened in here?! Detective?!"  
"Where have you been?! Go outside and call for an ambulance! NOW!" Mary commanded.

The cop nodded; he holstered his weapon as he ran out.

Mai glared at the monster in the chair: She wanted very much to hit him some more, to burn him right where he sat. However, the logical part of her brain reminded her that it wouldn't help anything. The damage -- and there was a lot of it -- was already done. And, even then, it would probably be more fitting, more poetic, if King could be the one to dole out the punishment.

"What's the matter, tits? You look like you have something to say." The monster cocked his head to the side and regarded Mai with what seemed to be genuine curiosity.  
"Something to  _say_ …?!" Mai narrowed her eyes. She didn't think there were any words that could truly convey the  _anger_ , the sheer  _loathing_  she felt.  
"Mai --" Mary started.  
"Yeah," the monster cut her off. "It looks like you want to tell me something, since your little cop friend won't let you hit me again. Did you want to talk about Cécile? She's such a spunky thing, isn't she?"

Mai pursed her lips: She knew the monster was trying to get a rise out of her, and, unfortunately, it was working. She rapidly tapped her fan against her leg as she thought about her next move. Yell and scream and probably go to jail herself for attempted manslaughter, or --

"You should have  _heard_  the things she said," the monster taunted Mai. "Do you have any idea how  _dirty_  she is?! It took a little convincing, but once she got going, well… She has a lot of energy."

That was it! Mai rushed forward, her fan at the ready, but Mary stopped her.

"Ignore him and go to them!"  
"But --!"  
"I've got this!"  
Mai opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted by the monster's laughter. "You know, she moaned like a  _whore_  when --"

In one fluid motion Mary turned away from Mai and fired her gun directly into the monster's knee cap. He screamed in agony as the bullet pierced through skin and soft tissue, shattering the bone underneath.

Mai stared, slack-jawed, as the monster writhed around in his bonds, shrieking a mess of obscenities as blood slowly soaked through his pant leg. Couldn't Mary get kicked off the force for such a display of violence? Regardless, Mai had never seen this side of her before, and it was honestly  _terrifying_. She made a mental note to never,  _ever_  piss her off.

"I've  _got_  this," Mary told Mai in an almost dreamy cadence. "Go."  
"O-okay…"

Mai hastily approached Yuri and King. The latter was laying on her back, covering her bloodied face with her hands, breathing heavily.

"How is she?" Mai asked.  
"Not good," Yuri replied in a shaky voice. Her expression was one of shock and horror; she had never done particularly well under stress, so seeing her good friend seriously injured, and then seeing someone get shot -- twice -- was probably wreaking havoc on her frame of mind.

"Mary! How long until that ambulance?!"  
"Soon!"

"Kingy?" Mai sat down on the bed and peered down at King. "Can you hear me?"  
"Mai…?" King's voice was hoarse. She uncovered her face and blinked a few times, dazed, before awkwardly trying to get up. She placed a hand on her side and shouted in pain. Mai and Yuri shared a worried glance as King fell back, clutching her ribs. She looked at the ceiling with eyes that were full of panic.

"Don't get up -- the paramedics are on the way," Yuri said gently as she placed a hand on King's arm.  
"Je-je-je pouvais pas…!" King stammered in disbelief. She was clearly on the verge of tears. "Ce fils de pute…!"  
"Kingy..."

Mai frowned; it wasn't often that King spoke in French. The fact that she was blubbering in a language she  _knew_  Mai and Yuri didn't speak a word of was alarming at best: She was so hurt, so broken down -- brutalized in ways Mai didn't even want to begin to imagine. It tore her heart to pieces, and there was nothing she could do to help; she couldn't even offer an appropriate response.

"Kingy, I'm sorry, but... we don't understand…"

It was then that Mary approached the trio on the bed. She offered King a somewhat melancholy smile.

"Hey, girl."  
"H-hey," King weakly responded.  
"We've got you, okay?"  
"Ou-ouais…"

In a flash, Mary was next to the monster in the chair. For a second Mai thought she was going to shoot him again, but, instead, she grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face into the desk before roughly dragging him out of his seat.

"Let's go, you piece of shit!"  
"That's police brutality," the monster griped through clenched teeth. "I'll get a lawyer! I'll sue the entire police department --!" He stopped his rant to address King directly. "Don't worry, Cécile! Maybe next time,  _Big_  will --"  
"DON'T TALK TO HER!" Mary yelled as Mai jumped to her feet. She was ready to throw her fan, but one look from Mary completely blotted out her resolve. She put her weapon down and held her breath as the monster was ushered out of the room.

After a moment, Mai exhaled. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before turning back to Yuri and King. King was finally sitting up, staring ahead with a far off expression that was somewhere between bewildered and repulsed.

"You're alright," Yuri murmured soothingly. "It's alright now."  
"Non ce n'e --  _no_!" King abruptly switched languages. She hastily wiped a tear from her face, smearing her already ruined eyeliner across her bruised cheek. "It's not 'alright.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You totally knew these were coming:
> 
> * Qu'est qui s'est passé = what is happening?  
> * From what I understand, getting kneecapped is a nine out of ten on the average pain scale. Since Mary isn't a murderer, maiming this guy was the next best thing.  
> * Je pouvais pas = I couldn't; Ce fils de pute = that son of a bitch  
> * Ouais = yeah or yep. Obviously super informal.  
> * Non ce n'est pas = No it's not. Of course, I cut the sentence so that the language could switch back to English in an abrupt, almost jarring manner. I hope that worked.


	7. Emotional Drought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the happiest bit in the world, but it's really not the happiest story either, is it? A couple of things might make you say, "Hmm," but I'll explain it all at the end of the chapter.

Hours upon hours upon police reports upon doctors upon more hours later, King shuffled through the front door of her apartment, clad in hospital-provided scrubs that were a little tight around the armpits, with Yuri by her side. Right away, her cat ran up to greet the pair. 

“Salut, Marron,” King murmured robotically as she flipped a light switch. It was the first thing she had really said since leaving the hospital. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak to anyone -- not entirely, anyway. She was just too shellshocked to utter more than three to four words at a time: The fact that she was able to communicate with police and medical staff had been an incredible feat in and of itself. However, the car ride with Yuri and Mai had been disturbingly quiet. Nobody knew what to say -- not even Mai, who usually had input for days. King, who was shot up with a decent amount of pain medication despite the risk associated with taking it, spent a good portion of the trip zoning out while Yuri and Mai occasionally glanced at her, concern written all over their faces.

“Promise me you'll call me if you need  _ any _ thing,” Mai told her when they dropped her off at her hotel. “Promise me!”

All King could do was nod.

Riding with just Yuri was even worse: She had turned on the radio in what must have been an attempt to bring some normalcy to the drive, but her taste in music was always a little questionable. Despite the morphine everything on the radio sucked and life was terrible.

King stood in her dining room, unsure of what to do with herself, and watched as Yuri placed a paper bag full of prescription medications, a folder packed with a shit ton of hospital discharge instructions, and a stuffed teddy bear on the table. After several moments King sat down in one of the dining chairs and leaned down to take off her boots, but her cracked ribs were not having it.

“Let me help!” Yuri rushed over; she deftly unzipped and removed both of King’s shoes.   
“Th-thanks...”

King looked away. Not being able to take off her own boots was embarrassing. Then again, the whole night had been one huge embarrassment after another. She suddenly felt an almost overwhelming desire to crawl under her bed and never come out again.

“Do you want some water?” Yuri asked.    
“No thanks.”   
“What about something to eat? I can ma --”   
“I’m fine!” King cut her off and immediately felt bad. “Sorry.”   
“Don’t apologize!”

Both women fell silent as Yuri started petting Marron. She appeared to be considering her next words very carefully.

“King-san…?”   
“Hm.”   
“Do you… If you want to talk, I --”   
“ _ No _ .”   
  
King furrowed her brow. She didn’t want to talk! Talking would probably only make things much, much worse! Besides, what could Yuri say, anyway? What magical words could she possibly have to offer in this situation? The answer was none, so why bother? Of course, King knew Yuri was only trying to be a good friend, and was probably doing what the crisis counselor advised her to do, but she couldn’t help it -- she felt like the assumption that she would  _ want _ to open up about what happened was stupid. She came to the conclusion that morphine made her mean.

“You want me to go,” Yuri remarked. It wasn’t a question.   
“It’s nothing personal.”   
“But you have a concussion! I know it’s mild, but the only reason the doctor let you go is because I said I’d --”   
“I’ll be  _ FINE _ !”

Yuri frowned; it was clear that she was at a loss. She stopped petting Marron and drew herself up to  her full height before hesitantly placing a hand on King’s shoulder.

“Cécile…?”

King’s head instantly snapped up: Her name was at the top of the list of things she absolutely did not want to hear anyone say ever again.

“I love you.” Yuri professed. “I love you, and so does Mai. We’re here for you if you need us. Or even if you don’t.”

King took a deep breath and winced. Stupid ribs. Yuri’s concern was so nice, so endearing. It was good to know that her friends cared, even when she was being a total bitch to them. She nodded slowly before fixing her gaze on a small hole in her sock.Yuri gave her shoulder a squeeze and walked to the door.

“I’ll go, but I’m going to call you every few hours! If you don’t answer I’ll just drive back here! And don't worry,” Yuri’s tone changed from assertive to solemn. “My brother will never find out.” 

She left.

King felt a pang of something she couldn’t put into words. If Yuri’s brother knew what happened, he would  _ absolutely _ see her differently: He’d think of her as some kind of broken whore, or he’d pity the hell out of her. Or probably both. She buried her face in her hands and sighed before standing up and locking the door.    
  
She desperately needed a shower.

  
***   
  


The water was too hot.    
  
Fucking unbearable really, but King didn’t move. She sat near the back of the tub, staring at the drain as she hugged her knees tight against her chest. The scalding water mercilessly rained down on her, turning her fair skin an unhealthy shade of pink that contrasted with the purple and black bruises all over her body. She didn’t care, though: She could live with a few first degree burns if it meant washing everything away.    
  
But everything was still there.   
  
_ He _ was still there -- still on her. Still  _ in _ her, and it was disgusting.  _ She _ was disgusting. King reached for her loofah and started to scrub her burning skin -- again. She didn't know how many times she had already washed; all she knew was that it wasn’t enough.    
  
It would never be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are those notes I mentioned:
> 
> * Salut = Hello (in French, of course)  
> * In case anyone forgot, King does, indeed, have a cat called Marron.  
> * King's clothing was confiscated, hence the hospital scrubs.  
> * About injuries and morphine: Morphine, or any other narcotics, are typically never used in someone with a head injury because the side-effects of the drug(s) can mirror worsening effects of said head injury. I also know that, usually, only strong, non-narcotics are given in the case of hurt ribs. But! Head-canon time: Poor King, despite being a fighter, has a shockingly low pain tolerance. So, tally up her injuries (cracked ribs, mild concussion, split forehead, busted lip, black eye, various bruises everywhere for those keeping score), add the low pain tolerance, and you get someone who would probably be pissed, and in a world of hurt, if all they were given was some prescription strength Ibuprofen.
> 
> That's all I've got for now. As always, don't be afraid to let me know your thoughts!


	8. Send the Pain Below

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter brought to you by Sleazy Bed Track by the Bluetones. It sets the mood quite nicely. Also, it's just a really good song.

It was just after midnight when King made herself get out of the shower. She dressed as quickly as she could, putting on an old, long-sleeved baseball shirt and even older shorts with an elastic band that was practically useless. She gingerly made her way to the dining room and emptied the bag of prescriptions Yuri had brought in earlier: Bottles of anti-inflammatories, narcotic painkillers, and antibiotics noisily spilled out, rolling every which way. Normally, King would have arranged the bottles so they were perfectly lined up with one another on the nearby counter, but she quickly realized she couldn’t care less about aesthetics or being organized. She left them scattered all over the table and turned her attention to the small teddy bear the counselor had given her. She took in every detail of the somewhat perplexing keepsake, from the hospital logo emblazoned on its t-shirt to the loose thread sticking out of one foot. She sighed as she walked it straight to the trash bin.

King didn’t know what to do. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but also extremely anxious: Even though her assailants were in custody she didn’t feel particularly safe. After all, Big was still out there, clearly as vindictive as ever. What if he decided he wasn’t done with her yet? She rubbed her hand, which was still aching from the massive punch she had thrown hours earlier, and walked over to the sofa. Although fairly certain she would never sleep again, she decided that she should at least try to take it easy before Yuri started blowing up her phone. She carefully lowered herself onto the plush cushions, drawing in a sharp breath as she slowly put her feet up. Within seconds Marron hopped up next to her.  
  
“Hi,” King murmured as she wrapped her arms around the purring cat. She pulled him close and scratched under his chin. “You still love me, right?”  
  
Just then the phone rang, startling King. She unintentionally tightened her grip on Marron, which, in turn, startled him. His dull back claws dragged across her stomach as he scrambled out of her grasp.

King lifted her shirt to survey the damage while the phone continued to ring. She knew she should just pick up, tell Yuri she was well enough, and then put some Neosporin on the puffy red streaks that decorated her abdomen, but she honestly didn’t feel like answering the call. Instead, she listened as her own voice chirped a sickeningly polite request for the caller to leave a message.

“King! Hey!”

Kyo Kusanagi’s greeting sliced through the quiet apartment, completely taking King by surprise. Why was he calling so late? Hell, why was he calling at all? He wasn’t supposed to be in town for several more days, and, even then, the two usually communicated via Messenger and tumblr memes anyway. What was this about?

“I got into town early, and it turns out Mai and me are staying at the same hotel. Weird, huh? Anyway, she told me you weren’t working tonight, so pick up.”

Nope.

“No, really -- I need to talk to you,” Kyo pleaded. There was something unusual about his voice; he sounded almost out of breath, like he was walking, or even running somewhere. There was a long pause before he continued. “Look, I don’t want to do this on your answering machine, but… Mai said you got in a really bad fight, and that you got ‘beat up.’”

King made a face as she pulled her shirt down; it was good to know Mai stuck to the plan. She reached backward to grab the phone from its place on the small table behind her head, but stopped when she heard a noise somewhere outside. She froze; maybe it was just one of the neighbors.

“Here’s the thing,” Kyo went on. “I’ve read that book, too. Also? I’m outside your apartment.” There was a click as the line went dead. The doorbell rang immediately.

King was mortified. There was no way in hell Kyo -- of all people! -- knew the exact origin of the euphemism she instructed everyone to use should she come up in conversation. No way. Before she could stop herself, she leapt to her feet and ran to the door. She quickly pulled it open, breathlessly uttering the first thing that came to mind:

“You read?!”  
“Ha, ha.” Kyo said dryly as he stowed his phone in his pocket. “Yuki and I read it for an extra credit assignment once. Hi.”  
“...Hey.”

King cleared her throat and lowered her head. Why did she have to be so impulsive at the worst possible times? Why couldn’t she have just unplugged the phone and refused to answer the door like a normal person?  
  
“So... can I come in?” Kyo asked. He stooped to pick up Marron, who was very aggressively rubbing against his legs. King opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She stepped aside; Kyo brought the cat inside while she shut the door.

“Shit.” Kyo peered into King’s face as best he could. “What happened?”  
“It was… It’s nothing. Just… lost a fight,” King hastily replied. She nervously tucked a lock of damp hair behind her ear, thankful that she wasn’t terribly swollen.  
  
“Who did this?” Kyo asked, angry.  
“It doesn’t matter. Mary took care of it.”  
“But… your neck!”  
“Y-yeah...”  
  
King became hyper-aware of every mark on her body. She discreetly tugged at her shorts to try to cover any bruises that were visible on her thigh, but failed miserably: There wasn’t enough fabric to hide the damage.  
  
“Is your brother with you?”

Damn it! King hadn’t even thought of Jean, or how he would react if he saw her so banged up. She would have to hold off on seeing him until she healed up a bit, which meant she would need to think of a good, _reasonable_ excuse as to why she wouldn’t be able to hang out with him for a few weeks, lest she set off the kid’s uncanny bullshit detector. Not to mention the rest of the family...

“He’s not here.”  
“Good,” Kyo said as he ushered King toward the sofa. “Come on.”

King sat, making sure to avoid eye contact at all costs. She wanted very badly to find out what, _exactly_ , Kyo knew (or thought he knew), but she had basically confirmed everything the second she opened the door. She needed to do some damage control, and fast.  
  
“So.”

King folded her hands together and realized that she never removed the plastic hospital band from her wrist. She twisted it so her name wasn’t visible before tucking it under her sleeve. “Ummm… What... what did Mai... say?”

Subtle.

“Not much,” Kyo answered. He buried his hands in his pockets. “We ran into each other in the lobby, and she looked pretty rough, so we got to talking, and she told me you guys had a hard night. When she said you got ‘beat up’ I didn’t really think anything of it at first, but there was something in the _way_ she said it that… Anyway, I thought... maybe you might need some company.”  
  
King didn’t reply. It was super nice of Kyo to come over, but company was something she definitely did _not_ need. She stared at her hands, which were shaking slightly, and spotted a little bit of blood under her fingernails. She instantly felt sick: _He_ was in her head, ripping her to shreds all over again, and --

“This isn’t going to define you.” Kyo’s declaration interrupted what would have been a disastrous, stream of consciousness wreck.  
“Wh-what?”  
“It’s a little cliché, but what happened won’t --”  
“ _Nothing._ _happened_ ,” King cut across him. “I-I lost a fight. I --”  
“Hey, there’s no need for the tough guy act,” Kyo assured her. “You don’t have to pretend that it didn’t happen. Not in front of me, anyway.”

King was at a loss for words. Why was Kyo being so kind to her?! If she ever felt normal again she would have to remember to buy him some In-N-Out or something, but who knew when that would be? Suddenly irritated, King wanted nothing more than to curl up in the fetal position and not be bothered by anyone or their good intentions ever again.

“Please leave,” she snapped abruptly.  
“Huh?”  
“VA T’EN!”

Kyo looked taken aback, but slowly nodded. “I understand,” he said as he turned toward the door. “I do. But if you need --”  
“ _LAISSE-MOI SEULE_ !”  
“Okay. We’ll talk later then, yeah?”

King held her breath and watched as Kyo walked away. She felt a little bad for yelling, and wondered if she should apologize, but, at the same time, she didn’t care. She hadn’t asked for him to come by to check on her, just like she hadn’t asked for his sympathy, or pity, or whatever the hell it was. Him and his unusual, albeit touching concern could fuck right off. She rose from her seat so she could lock the door behind him, but was quickly overcome by an intense feeling of nausea. She must have made a noise because Kyo, whose hand was on the doorknob, turned around, a quizzical expression on his face.  
  
“What’s wro --”  
“He wanted me to speak to him in French,” King blurted out miserably. Stunned by her own outburst, she placed a shaky hand over her mouth and slowly sat back down. She didn’t know what the actual _fuck_ had come over her, but she had the strangest urge to keep talking.  
  
“I… I couldn’t really say much because he was choking me the whole time. He’d let go a little so I would stay awake and talk... He made me say some really vile things. Things that… I mean… if I didn’t... he...”  
“King…!”  
“And the one guy held a gun to my head --” King put her two fingers against her jawline-- “right here. That’s how they got me in the first place. It turns out the threat of being shot is a hell of a drug.”

Kyo rushed over and knelt down in front of King. “Hey, you don’t have to...!”

King shook her head. She didn’t understand why she was saying these things -- these awful, private things -- out loud, or what the point even was. It wasn’t going to make anything better, but, for some reason, she couldn’t stop herself.

“I don’t talk about it, but it almost happened a few years ago. Jack Turner and his gang. They attacked me and I stupidly thought I could take the three of them on. A good samaritan just happened to be passing by and... I ran home as fast as I could and just cried. I swore to myself I would _never_ be in that position again. But the more things change, right? I was just as stupid, and arrogant, and helpless as I was then.  
“Do you know what was _really_ stupid, though? I started thinking about the most random things. I thought about you, thought about lunch, thought about this girl I liked a long time ago... At one point I thought, maybe if I imagined someone else -- maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, or --” King threw herself backward against the sofa and covered her face with both hands -- “oh my god, why am I even _telling_ you this?!”  
“It’s okay,” Kyo started. “You’re just --”  
“But it’s _not_ okay! Everyone keeps telling me that it’s okay, and it’s not! This is not okay! I am not okay! I’m just… I’m not…!” King’s voice cracked. She raked her hands through her hair and looked up at the ceiling. She tried to compose herself, but it was no use; she made a frustrated sound as tears began to roll down her face.

“They knew _exactly_ when to find me. Who knows how long Big had them watching me? I should have been more aware of my surroundings!”  
“No, King, don’t --” Kyo started as he moved to sit on the sofa beside her.  
“And I shouldn’t have worn that skirt! I shouldn’t have… I should have gone with the slacks like I always do -- I almost did, but… I don’t know! I don’t know! And I should have hit him again! I should have knocked him out before I tried to run but I was so focused on getting out of there that I --”  
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Kyo interrupted as he pulled King close. “This isn’t on you!”

King balled her hands into fists as she leaned against Kyo and sobbed uncontrollably. She hated being so vulnerable, especially in front of someone who wasn’t as close to her as Yuri, or Mai, or even Yuri’s older brother, whose name she couldn’t bring herself to think for fear of him somehow materializing for the sole purpose of expressing neverending disgust toward her. Yet, here she was -- Ugly Crying all over someone who wasn’t even in the Real Name Club.

“Hey, listen -- do _not_ blame yourself for this!”  
“I was so _useless_ ,” King gasped between sobs. “I couldn’t do anything!”  
“I know you, and I know you fought hard. Don’t sell yourself short.”  
  
King took in a shaky breath. She was beginning to feel slightly less hysterical, but only because she was completely, utterly spent. The thought of using Kyo as a cushion and going to sleep right then and there would have been pretty appealing had she not been so freaked out about the idea of letting her guard down. Not only that, but his she-beast of a girlfriend would probably have a conniption fit if she ever found out that another woman was dangerously close to dozing off on her man.

“Yuki’s going to get jealous,” King sniffled.  
“Don’t worry about her, you’re fine.”  
  
Despite feeling like she could barely keep her head up, King pulled away. She wiped her eyes on her sleeves before letting out a huge yawn that partially reopened the gash on her lip.  
  
“You look very --”  
King shot Kyo a pointed look as she pressed her lips together.  
“ -- tired.”  
“...Oh. Yeah. I guess.”  
“Here.” Kyo reached past King to adjust a pillow that was behind her. “Why don’t you lie back?”  
  
King considered Kyo very carefully. She looked from him to the pillow, and back again, wary.  
  
“Please,” Kyo said very seriously.  
“Fine. Just for a minute.” King adjusted her position on the couch so she could curl up against the cushion. “You’re being too nice,” she told Kyo matter-of-factly. Her words came out slightly jumbled. “Why are you being so nice.”  
“Uhhh, because we’re friends?”  
“...Cool.”  
  
All at once King’s eyelids were insanely heavy and she wasn’t entirely certain of what was going on. Had it been a minute yet? Didn’t she need to feed Marron? And buy In-N-Out? What about Big and his crew? What if they made bail? Then what? She tried to sit up but Kyo placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

“Hey, hey. Just rest, okay?”  
“But, I --?”  
“Go to sleep, lady.”  
“I can’t,” King replied. “Big…!”  
“You’re barely awake,” Kyo pointed out. “Don’t worry -- I’ll be here.”  
“Thanks, but --” another yawn -- “Yuri’s gonna… and the cat… and… I...”  
  
King trailed off as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The book King and Kyo are referencing is Hotel New Hampshire, by John Irving. "[Redacted] got beat up" was what they said when referring to the rape of one of the characters. When King said she "lost a fight" she's referencing the story as well. (I'm replacing the name with "Redacted" to keep it spoiler free.)  
> * Jean. King's brother, of course. I know it's "Jan" in the official canon, but bear with me for a second. He debuts in Art of Fighting 2, which had a pretty shitty English translation. The characters for his name can be translated as either Jean or Jan, but seeing as how he's a little French boy, Jean makes a ton more sense.  
> * "The rest of the family...": There's no way King could possibly be Jean's legal guardian of she doesn't see him for long stretches of time, as seen in the AOF 2 ending, and then KOF '96. Someone else is caring for this kid.  
> * Va t’en = Go away. Laisse-moi seule = Just leave me alone! (Kyo doesn't understand a word of French, but he gets that King wants him to go.)  
> * King's backstory! I have this book called All About SNK 1991 - 2000, and it says that, before the events of the first Art of Fighting, King was defeated by Jack Turner's gang. No specifics are given, but seeing as how she clearly fucking HATES him, I head-canon'd the fuck out of this.  
> * Head-canon: King is a raging bisexual and you cannot change my mind about this. Also, I hate the idea of King and Ryo. It's completely forced and completely out of left field. SNK's habit of pairing the girls with the boys in their games by default is mindless and tone deaf. Fight me.  
> * "The Real Name Club": Ryo and Robert didn't know shit about King but somehow tracked down her brother to pay for his medical expenses, meaning they would have had to have found a name. So, the RNC would be the Sakazakis, Robert, and, yeah, probably Mai. Maybe Mary. Idk.  
> * Head-canon: Yuki is a bitch.
> 
> That's - finally - everything! Thank you for sticking with me, and sticking with this story! Cheers!


End file.
